Random thoughts with a side of I Have A Dream House

Devils Lake, Lincoln City, Ore.

This past weekend was the Walker family Christmas House weekend, more accurately called the I Have A Dream House because we hold it over MLK weekend, not Christmas (not that any of us will ever call it anything besides the Christmas House). Anyway, I was talking to my favorite mother-in-law over ... breakfast? Maybe dinner, and she was all like, I'm sorry you're not doing your pointless rambles any more, and I was all, No, I am, but then it occurred to me that maybe I'm not.

Which made me a little bit sad, honestly, because I love writing pointless ramble.

It's not that I'm not writing, though, so much as my priorities have shifted. When I started the blog, I was working 20 hours a week and was looking for an excuse to use up some words. Now I'm up to 32 to 35 hours a week, we're knee-deep in basketball season for both girls, and I tend to gravitate towards my journals rather than the computer.

'Cause I can't always get on the computer. Well, school work and all. It's kind of hard to toss your fifth grader off the computer when she needs to do Splash Math.

Hey, irony: Johanna is lurking because she needs the computer to do homework. What do kids do if they don't have a computer at home? I have no idea.

All this is to say that I have no plans to actually give up the blog; I just might not be posting as much as I used to.

So... I'm going to let Johanna use the computer now, and I will come back soon to tell you how I packed for our three-day weekend (spoiler alert: I overpacked, although it didn't feel like it at the time I was throwing clothing into my bag).

We're cool, right?

The Abby Texts: Gratitude

Abby: Do we have parsley?

Me: Yes

Abby: Thanks

Me: Thank you

Abby: No you

Me: You

Tuesday "Art," Johanna's Cubist (?) painting edition

Bonus Tuesday: Johanna's first screenplay

Last summer, Johanna wrote, filmed and directed her first screenplay. Abby and her friend Lily were the main characters; I had a cameo as the mom and Johanna as Principal George. I wish I knew how to link up video, because Abby and Lily were terrible actors--and they insisted on reading the script exactly as written. It was awesome.

So while I can't give you the video, I can give you the script. Mainly because I found it while cleaning out my reading retreat and I want a digital copy of it before tossing it into the recycling closet. You're welcome, Internet!

Bonus Tuesday: Embracing mediocrity

Trisha's Note: Because I enjoy writing but am also easily sidetracked, I have a lot of unfinished posts just wallowing around in sad incompletion on my Blogger dash. I've decided to finish them because A) I like a challenge and 2) I don't want to party like it's 1999. Or 2014. I just want to stay home.

So that's what Bonus Tuesday is all about: a bonus post, written who knows when and about who knows what, that may or may not really deserve the light of day. (You're totally sold on the concept, aren't you?) I started working on this post early October, apparently. I just couldn't figure out how to get the words right. I still haven't, but hey, Bonus Tuesday waits for no one.

Source

I've been writing and rewriting this post for, no kidding, two weeks now*, and I've come to the conclusion that I have to just SAY IT or else this is never going to go live. Maybe the fates are trying to tell me something? Unfortunately, I'm kind of deaf from blasting New Kids on the Block on my walkman circa 1986.

Side note: My mother did warn me this would happen, but I didn't listen. Because the volume was up too high.

Anyway, about the time of my blogging break, a woman came into the office for an interview and she said something that kind of intrigued me, but not in the way she meant it to. I want to preface this by saying that she is an incredibly kind soul, and I appreciate so much what she was trying to do and the faith she has in me.

Here's what went down:

She's a teacher, and she was talking about what had been and what could have been in her own life, and how we should live with no regrets. In between answering my questions, she would ask me questions, and seemed to take to heart what I was saying, particularly about the teachers who saw my writing talent and nurtured that in me. So I'm telling her about good ol' Mrs. Smith in fifth grade, who believed in my stories so much she made copies of a collection I'd written and sent them off to various publishers, and then, since this woman also grew up here and we know mutual people, I added that my friend Mara really is being published.

At this she nods sagely, like she's just put together a puzzle, and asks me when I'm going to publish my story. I want to be the first to come into this office and have you autograph it, she adds.

And I'm like, well... but I was a child, and I'm okay with what I'm doing now. To which she's all, no, don't just be okay! Never settle! 

As I said, I really appreciate her faith in me, like I could just sit down and crank out a novel. She's nice. But instead of making me want to write a novel, it's just made me go round and round with myself on the line between success and settling: There's this idea that we constantly have to be reaching for more, have our sights on the next big thing, in order to be "successful." We're never able to just stop and be grateful for what we already have and what we've already accomplished because that's considered "settling."

But I am grateful. I'm happy, even. What does it says about me that I'm willing to settle? That I don't think I am? Am I taking a stand for minimalism or am I just being a brat? Or worse, lazy?

I don't know, you guys. I just don't.

*Try almost three months at this point.

Bonus Tuesday: The Abby Texts: Schooled

Trisha's Note: Because I enjoy writing but am also easily sidetracked, I have a lot of unfinished posts just wallowing around in sad incompletion on my Blogger dash. I've decided to finish them because A) I like a challenge and 2) I really don't want to wrap any last-minute Christmas gifts. Fun fact: There ARE no last minute Christmas gifts because everyone just gets homemade jam.

So that's what Bonus Tuesday is all about: a bonus post, written who knows when and about who knows what, that may or may not really deserve the light of day. (You're totally sold on the concept, aren't you?) I think I originally axed this one because it makes Abby look like a brat, when really it's just that she likes words. She always has. One of her favorite activities as a toddler was just yelling out words. "You're summer squash! You're basil!" Anyway, her calling me dummy is no worse than me calling her poopie, really.

Abby: Duuuuuuuude, are you picking me up or what?

Me: Probs. Will see. I like to keep an hora of mystery.

Abby: *Aura dummy. You stink but you're also pretty and you should pick me up.

Me: You just dissed so nope.

Abby: Please.

Me: Okay. I will. You owe me chocolate.

Bonus Tuesday: Home is where the heart is

Trisha's Note: Because I enjoy writing but am also easily sidetracked, I have a lot of unfinished posts just wallowing around in sad incompletion on my Blogger dash. I've decided to finish them because A) I like a challenge and 2) I really don't want to deal with my children just now.

So that's what Bonus Tuesday is all about: a bonus post, written who knows when and about who knows what, that may or may not really deserve the light of day. (You're totally sold on the concept, aren't you?) Actually, this is one I originally dismissed as being too pathetic. And yet, I march on.

Wyoming, early November.

Could there be any cliche more cliche than home is where the heart is? I kind of doubt it. I mean, they embroider that shit onto pillows, for crying out loud. You can't tell me that's not a red flag.

Imagine my chagrin, then, when that phrase kept racing through my mind all during the first week of November. Home is where the heart is, home is where the heart is, home is where the heart is. It got very old.

Because my heart was in Wyoming, hunting defenseless forest creatures.

Let's just get this out there right now: I am a homebody. I like routine and I like tradition. (That's probably why I make such a great Catholic.) I do not like surprises. I do not like trying new things. When something happens that is not what I had originally expected, it takes me an embarrassingly long time to regroup.

Which makes things hard for me sometimes, frankly, because life is not static. When Eric goes away on his yearly hunting trip, which generally last from a week to 10 days, it throws me way off.

On the surface, I am fine with him leaving. Actually, deeper than the surface, even. He goes with his dad and his brothers, and they have a great time together. It's good for him to have that time.

But deep down? Hate hate hate it.

I try really hard not to punish him for going. I used to, I won't lie, because I was so pissed at being left and I was trying to make him feel as badly as I felt. (Um, no, it didn't work, but thanks for asking.) So now, I make it a point to just let him go.

(What's interesting about all of this is that, even though I try so hard on so many levels, I still slip into anxiety mode. The closer he gets to leaving, the more anxiety I feel. By the time he leaves, it's just all anxiety all the time, which is about as much fun as you'd expect.)

I try to make the week as fun as possible for the girls and myself when he's gone. We joke that we are lawless in the house with no adult supervision, and who knows what might happen? We can have ice cream for dinner if we want. SO THERE.

What made it slightly better this year is that we now have cell phones that don't suck, so Eric was able to call and text frequently. I appreciated that. Being able to talk to him made my day seem a little more normal. And having a job also helps. I had too many other things to think about to allow much time for wallowing.

I'm not really sure what the point of this is. That I miss my husband when he leaves me? That I suck at being alone? That my need for normalcy is intrinsic and not... I don't know, a lifestyle choice? That I am not a modern woman? That I need to up my meds? I don't know. Maybe all of the above.

The end.

Bonus Tuesday: Haiku!

Trisha's Note: Because I enjoy writing but am also easily sidetracked, I have a lot of unfinished posts just wallowing around in sad incompletion on my Blogger dash. I've decided to finish them because A) I like a challenge and 2) I really don't want to mop my kitchen floor.

So that's what Bonus Tuesday is all about: a bonus post, written who knows when and about who knows what, that may or may not really deserve the light of day. (You're totally sold on the concept, aren't you?)

Daily Create for Nov. 4, 2014:
Write a Smart Alec Haiku

Assignment is to
create smart alec haiku
well, that was fun, yo.

Actually, no, I
can do way better than that.
I am a master.

Only it's kind of
a lot of pressure, so you
know what? Maybe not.

Bonus Tuesday: Just another day at work

Trisha's Note: Because I enjoy writing but am also easily sidetracked, I have a lot of unfinished posts just wallowing around in sad incompletion on my Blogger dash. I've decided to finish them because A) I like a challenge and 2) I really don't want to do any laundry right now.

So that's what Bonus Tuesday is all about: a bonus post, written who knows when and about who knows what, that may or may not really deserve the light of day. (You're totally sold on the concept, aren't you?)

Lincoln City, NOT the Pacific. This will all  make sense in a minute.

I get a lot of interesting phone calls at work (well, the office does, I guess, and I am just lucky enough to be the one on the front lines picking up) that range from questions ("What's the number to the Oregon Department of Labor? You guys have that, right?" Fun fact: No) to robotic solicitations ("This is Amanda reminding you that you have not yet completed your Google business profile") to actual people wanting to sell us stuff ("Who's in charge of buying your supplies?" Fun fact #2: Unfortunately, me).

And then, of course, there are the story ideas. Usually they boarder on the slanderous (I mean, yes, it's frustrating when you get crappy service, but it's not really something we can base an investigative report on) or the weird (we had a dude come in with pictures on his cell of a UFO not too long ago), or the boring (I'm sure your event is awesome, but, um, we can't send anyone so... do you want to take a picture and just send it to us? 'Cause that would be great).

That's probably too much to say to introduce a phone call I got while manning the phones last Thursday,* from a woman very excited to tell me about an event taking place in Lincoln City with NATIONAL, PATRIOTIC significance over the weekend, and yet, I just did.

So you guys, I was only half paying attention because she lost me at Lincoln City. We are seated three hours from that coastal town, and as we only cover news in our immediate area, no one from our office was going to travel there to cover this event. We just won't. If there's no local connection, it ain't on.

But from what I gathered (and I actually tried to go on the Lincoln City newspaper site to see if there was any info on this to jog my memory, but there isn't. For some reason, I'm starting to doubt the NATIONAL, PATRIOTIC significance), some guy -- maybe a veteran? -- was traveling across the state -- maybe country? -- on foot -- possibly? -- to raise awareness -- or maybe money? -- and ending the journey in Lincoln City. On the beach, I hope, because that would be dramatic as hell. You can't go any farther than the Pacific.

I could tell she was elderly, and I didn't want to crush her dreams because she was so damn excited about this, but I had to. So I was like, We're a local newspaper and we only cover events in our area, and she was all, NATIONAL, PATRIOTIC SIGNIFICANCE!, and I was like, Yeah... still no, but she was not going to give up. So she told me that her sister and nephew live in town, and that she was 65, except she was really 91 and she just said she was 65 because when she was younger she had... blood poisoning or something?... and she was not expected to survive but Jesus broke the bonds of death and here she is!

And then she launched into her event info again.

You know what, people? I am not that brave and not that strong to go up against a 91-year-old on good terms with Jesus, so I did the only thing I could think of to get her off the phone: I gave her the company email address and the editor's name. And then she wanted my name ("Tricia?" Fun fact #3: Not even. I'm not a Patricia. I'm a Trisha. I get very cranky about this, actually), which I gave to her kind of against my better judgement, but hey, what could happen, right?

Still, I felt it in everyone's best interest to try one last time to not get her hopes up, but this time she was like, Where there's a will, there's a way, and you COULD cover this event. She was so excited to finally have contact info that she repeated everything three times, then told me to have a blessed day.

So that was nice.

Needless to say, that event has come and gone and not a single member of our staff was there to witness the NATIONAL, PATRIOTIC significance.  But I do kind of wonder what happened, not with the guy walking or whatever, but with my new friend. Did she make it there? Was she disappointed we didn't? Does she think she should have tried harder to convince me?

I will never know.

*Not last Thursday. This was in September, maybe? October? This summer?